


fashion baby

by inlovewithnight



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Panties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24878218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: During Gabe's rookie year, his road-roomie/mentor/friend and disaster issues a challenge.
Relationships: Erik Johnson/Gabriel Landeskog
Comments: 11
Kudos: 122





	fashion baby

Gabe gets out of the shower to find EJ sitting cross-legged on his bed, frowning at the TV with his tongue poking out of his tooth gap, his partial sitting on the nightstand like a horrifying little monster. Gabe hitches his towel higher on his hips and rolls his eyes. "Can't you keep that thing in a case or something?"

"Hi, EJ. Thanks for being so cool about being sexiled, EJ. How was the rest of your night?" EJ flips him off and picks up the remote. "It was fine, by the way."

"I knew it would be." Gabe goes over to his bag and pokes through it for a pair of boxers. "You can take care of yourself in a bar."

"I can, that's true." EJ sighs and tosses the remote down again. Gabe isn't sure he even changed the channel or anything, just held it. "So how was it? Did she explain to you where Tab A fits into Slot B and that you don't honk the boobs like clown noses?"

Gabe blinks at him. "What?"

"God, why couldn't I have an American rookie?" EJ sighs again, more dramatically this time, and lies back against the pillows. "You had fun? You were safe? Not gonna leave a half-Swedish baby in San Jose?"

"EJ! I'm not stupid." Gabe drops his towel and steps into his boxers, glaring across the bed at this… _person_ who is supposed to be helping him learn how to be a professional but who mostly makes fun of him all the time. "We used a condom."

"Good boy. If I get hit by a bus tomorrow, at least I'll know I taught you that."

"You didn't." Gabe throws the towel at him. "My parents did, before I left for Canada."

EJ rolls his eyes and puts his hands behind his head, propping himself up a little and looking at the TV, where some kind of recap of car racing has come on. Not proper car racing, like F1, but the American thing, NASCAR, which Gabe hasn't been able to muster any interest in at all. 

"You refuse to let me be a positive influence, that's all," EJ says after a moment, but Gabe can't be bothered to keep up the bickering. He goes back into the bathroom to brush his teeth, vaguely aware of the sounds of EJ getting up and moving around the room, probably getting undressed.

When he comes back, mouth properly scoured and minty-fresh, EJ's sitting on the bed again, face alight in the way that means he's found something new to play with. Gabe stops and looks at him with suspicion. "What?"

Instead of answering, EJ holds his hand up. There's bright purple cloth twisted around his fingers, a little bit of lace visible but otherwise a smooth, silky-looking fabric. 

"I don't know what that is," Gabe says after a moment. 

"Think back to a few hours ago," EJ says, his voice tight with barely restrained glee. "I guess maybe you didn't see them for very long, though, between taking them off and them hitting the floor."

Oh. Fuck.

"Fuck," Gabe sighs, tilting his head back. "Really? You stole her panties?"

"I absolutely did not. How would that even work? She was long gone by the time I got here." EJ shakes the fabric at him. "No, Gabriel, my friend, little prince of Colorado, she _left_ her panties. Still on the floor, so probably not so much on purpose as she didn't feel like she could take the time to look for them. Which makes me think…" EJ pauses and raises one eyebrow. "That you maybe rushed her out the door?"

Gabe folds his arms over his chest. "What's your point?"

"Am I right? Did you rush her out?"

Gabe _hates_ EJ sometimes. "Not on purpose. But I knew you and the guys were coming back and I wanted a shower, so—"

"So," EJ says, shaking his head. "Oh, Landy. Oh, my sweet prince Hamlet."

"That's Denmark, not Sweden," Gabe says flatly. "I've told you that like eight times."

"You rushed her out the door. You treated her like a common trollop."

"I did not!"

"A _gentleman_ ," and now EJ unwinds the panties from his fingers and waves them at Gabe like they're a flag or something, "lets a lady take her time after their rendezvous, and makes sure she has all of her things, and maybe even invites _her_ to take a shower before he boots her back onto the street still leaking from whatever orifice—"

" _EJ_!"

EJ grins at him, tongue poking out through his tooth gap again. "My point is, you were very rude. There are consequences for that. I've gotta teach you manners, right? You can't go around ruining the reputation of hockey players everywhere on my watch."

"I’m not ruining anything!"

"You don't know what you're doing." EJ stretches the waistband between his index fingers. "So you've gotta learn. That’s part of my job as your mentor, to make sure you learn things. I don't want you to go tell the other guys I'm doing a bad job, do I?"

"There are a lot of things I could tell the other guys," Gabe mutters, but EJ ignores him, because he knows perfectly well that Gabe's got _nothing_ that would make the other guys even bat an eye. Fuck. 

"Your lesson," EJ says grandly, throwing the panties at Gabe's head, "is that you have to wear these tomorrow."

Gabe blinks. "What?"

"It's a travel day. No skate." EJ grins broadly at him. "So you won't have to worry about chafing or anything."

"You want me to wear this underwear all day."

"Yes."

"Some girl's dirty underwear."

"I'm willing to bet she has a name, and I hope you know what it is." That's accompanied by a sudden sharp look, and Gabe's face heats up.

"Angie," he says, folding his arms over his chest. "Her name's Angie."

"Good job. Congratulations." EJ stretches his arms over his head, wincing when his shoulder pops loudly. "Fuck. That's gonna linger. Um. What were we… oh yeah, yes, you can rinse them out in the sink if you're really that offended."

"EJ, this is _stupid_."

"I don't really care, Gabe." EJ swings his legs up into the bed and lies back against the pillows. "I'm supposed to teach you how to be a professional hockey player and a decent human being, even though those two things are sometimes mutually exclusive, and today's lesson is that you kicked that girl out without her undies, so you've gotta wear 'em tomorrow. End of discussion."

EJ does not actually have any authority here. Gabe is aware of that. He can shove the underwear in his bag, or throw them in the trash, and EJ cannot actually do anything about it. The most he could do is tell the other guys that Gabe's being insubordinate and they'll freeze him out in the locker room or make him clean up after them or _maybe_ do some extra bag skates, if the coaches don't catch them. Gabe isn't stupid. He knows the team's pinning some face-of-franchise hopes on him. They're not going to let that get messed up by any kind of hazing-the-rookie horseplay.

On the other hand, EJ really has been good to him. There's no reason to throw anything back in his face or pitch a fit about it. As hazing goes, this is pretty low-key.

Besides, it's always funny to see EJ's face when Gabe doesn't flinch when he expects him to.

"Okay." Gabe nods and gets out of bed, going over to the bathroom. He leaves the door open so EJ can hear him running water in the sink, wetting the crotch of the panties and rubbing some of the hand soap into them. He rinses them out carefully, then hangs them on the doorknob to dry.

EJ has his face mostly back under control by the time Gabe goes back to his bed, but there's just enough wildness in his eyes and tension at the corners of his mouth for Gabe to know that he did, in fact, win this one.

"Night, EJ." He switches his bedside lamp off and burrows down under the blankets. The bed smells like sweat and sex. He probably shouldn't have hurried Angie out so fast. He could've been more polite. And gotten her number.

"Night, Landy." EJ's lamp goes off, too, and Gabe lies there in the dark, fumbling back through the evening in his mind, trying to remember what the panties looked like on Angie, how they felt when he took them off. He thinks they were soft, nice against his skin in the handful of times he touched them before tossing them to the floor.

**

He can confirm that's true the next morning, when he grabs them off the doorknob and steps into them while EJ's fighting with the coffee maker.

"Son of a bitch," EJ mutters, stabbing at the buttons at the base of the machine. "This piece of… why do they make these things so you can't use them until you've _had_ coffee…"

Gabe tugs the waistband up over his hips, looking down his torso at the way the purple fabric stretches over his dick. It's kinda cool-looking, actually. His dick is trying to escape out the side, but maybe he can kind of… shift it around a little, and it'll stay put. He likes how the lacy bit looks, stretched over the root of his dick, just holding down the blond curls.

"Fuck." EJ smacks his hand down on the table. "We're just going to have to go get coffee downstairs, I guess."

Gabe looks over his shoulder, trying to see how his ass looks. He can't get a good view. The little bit that cuts over his hip—it's not lace like the front, but it's not plain fabric, either, kind of a twisted strappy thing—looks nice, but he wants to know what the back looks like, too. 

"Landy, what are you _doing_ in there?"

Gabe jumps. "Fixing my hair!"

"Well, hurry up. I can't make this fucking thing works so we've gotta go downstairs for coffee."

Gabe opens the door just enough to look at him. "You can go without me. I'll be down in a little while."

"What is taking you so long?"

"I told you, my hair!"

"Christ on a bike." EJ sighs. "Yeah, okay, I'll see you downstairs. Don't forget your room key."

"Got it." Gabe doesn't move until he hears the room door close, then turns his back to the mirror and looks over his shoulder at it. _Now_ he can see his ass, and yeah, the underwear looks…

The only word he can come up with is _pretty_. 

He turns back and forth, checking how it looks from a couple of different angles. He can feel his face heating, and a glance up in the mirror confirms that while he isn't deep red with embarrassment, he's flushed pink in a way that makes his stomach flip and twist. He doesn't know how to sort through that to figure out what it might mean.

His gaze drifts down again and he sees that his dick is still sticking oddly out of the underwear, trying to escape. It doesn't look nice, and without thinking he reaches down and tries to get it settled better, to find a way to make everything look pretty and smooth. It turns out the only way to do that is to tuck it back between his legs, carefully tugging at the fabric until it holds it in place. There's still more of a bulge than he knows should be there, but at least it's symmetrical. It looks okay. 

He looks up and meets his own eyes again, and _now_ the rush of heat to his face is definitely deep red. It’s not all embarrassment, either, but he can’t dig into that right now. There’s breakfast.

He grabs his sweatpants and pulls them on, then his t-shirt, before turning to the mirror to try to fix his hair for real. He gets it looking okay—not good enough to justify how long he's been in here, but EJ's probably already forgotten about it—and hurries downstairs for breakfast. He isn't as desperate for coffee as the older guys are, but he's _hungry_ , and he doesn't want to miss anything going on with the team.

**

EJ seems to have forgotten about the underwear thing altogether. He spends breakfast arguing with Riles about—something, Gabe doesn't even know, and when they go back upstairs to get their bags before bus call, he doesn't say anything, just pockets some candy from the minibar and asks Gabe to check the bathroom for his teeth.

Gabe isn't sure if he's supposed to bring it up, or if EJ's silence means he never meant for Gabe to actually do it at all. He follows EJ onto the bus and settles into the seat next to him, as always, except that today he has to sit down carefully and shift position so he doesn't hurt himself. There's a decent chance of crushing or pinching things that appreciate more care than that. It takes him a minute to feel secure enough to exhale a slow, careful breath.

EJ gives him an odd look. "Are you okay?"

"Mm." Gabe nods, staring straight ahead. "I'm fine."

"Why are you sitting like that?"

Gabe can't look at him. "Like what?"

"Like… weird. Like you're afraid to move." EJ shifts in his own seat, half-turning to lean against the window and look Gabe up and down. "What is wrong with you?"

Gabe's whole face is so hot it hurts. He takes another breath and looks at EJ, hating how vulnerable he feels, hoping that EJ hasn't been tricking him this whole time and just _pretending_ to want to help him figure things out. If all of this has been a trick just to humiliate him, he'll ditch his contract and go back to Sweden, swear to God he will, going down in NHL history as a laughingstock won't be so bad if he can change his name and be an accountant in Stockholm—

"Are you hurt?" EJ asks, putting his hand on Gabe's shoulder. "Kid, you better talk to me, or I'll go get Milan and you'll have to deal with him."

Gabe shakes his head and forces himself to swallow. "I'm fine! Just." He leans in closer to EJ and drops his voice to a whisper, desperately hoping that he's not about to be laughed at. "I did what you said."

EJ looks utterly blank. "Wait, what did I say? I say a lot of things."

_Fuck_. "About the… the underwear." Gabe glances down at his own lap, then back at EJ. "You told me to wear them today."

EJ's eyes fly open wide, and the hand not holding Gabe's shoulder jerks convulsively against the armrest. "You… oh shit. You really did that?"

Gabe nods helplessly. He knows his face is still painfully red, but EJ isn't laughing or calling out to the other guys, so maybe—maybe this won't be as bad as it could be. Maybe it won't be full-on humiliation.

"Okay. Um. Okay." EJ blinks rapidly and drags his hand through his hair. "I did not think you would actually do that."

"You _told_ me to." Gabe looks around fast, just enough to confirm everyone else is ignoring them, and pushes the waistband of his sweats down just enough to show the twisting strap over his left hipbone. 

EJ chokes and grabs at the armrest again. "Jesus. Put that away."

Gabe lets the waistband fall back into place and leans back carefully in his seat. "So yeah. That's… that's what's going on."

"I can't believe you actually did it." EJ stares into space for a moment, and Gabe watches in vague fascination how his face gets all patchy, like it can't decide if it wants to be pale with shock or blushing red. "You're full of surprises, Landy."

"You told me to," Gabe mutters again, grabbing a bottle of water from his backpack. "And they _fit_ weird, I had to, like, tuck everything back, so I can't sit normally."

"Oh my god, don't tell me that." EJ covers his face with his hand. "I definitely shouldn't know that."

"You're the one who—"

"Yeah, I know, I told you to, I heard you. I get it." EJ takes a deep breath. "Well. I don't think you're going to have a chance to change til we get to the hotel, but sitting on buses, sitting on a plane, you'll be okay, right? It's not like you have to skate with them on."

"I think so." Gabe shifts his weight cautiously. "I just, you know. Have to think about what I'm doing."

"Okay." EJ nods and settles back in his seat. "Good. Just… you can change when we get to the hotel. No harm, no foul."

Gabe knows he should just shut up, sit still, mind his own business the rest of the trip. For some reason, though, his mouth just keeps going. "They're really soft."

"What?"

"They're _soft_." Gabe shrugs and glances sideways at him. "The lace is a little scratchy, but the main part of them, it's really soft, and it kinda feels nice."

EJ isn't splotchy now. He's definitely bright red. Gabe watches him for a minute, waiting for a reaction, but EJ just turns his head to stare out the window and is silent the rest of the way to the airport.

**

Gabe doesn't try to talk to him again on the flight, either, just sits quietly and listens to music while EJ halfheartedly flips through the in-flight magazine. Gabe knows perfectly well that EJ has a book in his bag, shoved under the seat in front of them, but if he would rather look at advertorials for hotels in San Antonio, well, that's his choice.

They land in St. Louis and get on another bus to the hotel. Nobody says anything about doing a team dinner, and Gabe's grateful; he's tired from traveling and the lace is chafing at him a little bit, nothing terrible but enough that he wants to be able to get his sweats off and adjust it. Untucking his dick would feel pretty good, too. 

He's thinking about that when they get off the bus and walk through the hotel lobby, taking their room keys from the junior logistics staff members, who all look even more exhausted than the players. EJ's a pace behind him, and when Gabe misses a step looking at the room number written on his key envelope, EJ bumps into him, a solid body-check that sends him stumbling forward.

"Easy, Landy." EJ grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him back upright. "Try not to fall down."

"Sorry." Gabe doesn't look at him, trying to pull away from his touch and get to the elevators. EJ doesn't let go, though, just keeps his hand there like Gabe is pulling him along.

"You distracted or something?" he asks, all casual, when Gabe stops to wait for the next available car. "You seem distracted."

Gabe glances at him, but EJ's eyes are fixed straight ahead, watching his own reflection in the elevator doors. "I'm fine."

"Yeah?" EJ's fingers tighten a little on Gabe's shoulder, then ease, like he's checking himself. "I was thinking about what you said earlier. That would distract me."

_Thinking_ about it. Gabe takes a breath and lets himself lean into EJ's touch, heavily enough that EJ has to help hold him up. "I thought you were freaked out about it, before."

"Not freaked out. Surprised." 

Gabe rolls his eyes and pulls away as the elevator doors at the far end of the row open, instead of the ones they're standing in front of. "You were a little freaked out." He gets to the car first, and holds the doors until EJ joins him. EJ's not as red as he was on the bus, and not splotchy exactly, either, just red right along the apples of his cheeks. And the tips of his ears. Gabe wishes he had some sort of a chart to explain what the different kinds of redness mean.

"I didn't expect it from you. I didn't think you would actually…" EJ takes a deep breath and blows it out again. "I mean, you never do what I tell you, you constantly roll your eyes at me and tell me to fuck off, why would you—"

Gabe frowns at him and hits the button for their floor. "I do everything you tell me! They assigned you to teach me now to be a professional, I can't just ignore you!"

"You ignore me _all the time_." EJ looks like he's trying to glare, but it's not working. "And you definitely tell me to fuck off."

"Only when you're playing _jokes_ on me."

"You didn't think me telling you to wear some random girl's underwear was a joke?"

Gabe opens his mouth, then closes it, and turns back to staring at the panel of buttons. 

"Gabe?" Apparently EJ isn't going to fucking let this go. 

"I don't know." At least he keeps his voice steady for those three words. "I guess it doesn't matter, does it? Now I know you were joking, and when we get to the room I'll take them off and throw them away and it… it won't matter anymore."

He can tell EJ is staring at him, but doesn't let himself look up to see what face goes with the stare. That doesn't matter, either. 

"Please don't tell the other guys about it," Gabe says when the doors open and they step off onto their floor. "I mean. I know it's a good joke and could be a whole thing in the room, but… please don't."

EJ's legs are longer than his; it's easy for him to step around him and lead the way down the hall, with Gabe trailing along behind. "Of course I won't tell the guys. I'm not a dick, Landy." He stops at the door and fumbles the keycard out of its envelope. "Well, not about stuff like that, anyway."

Gabe knows he should probably turn this into banter, draw it out into a game, but he's too tired. "Thank you."

EJ glances at him, eyes wide, then nods and opens the door, holding it with his arm up high so Gabe can go in first. 

Gabe tosses his bag down by the nearer of the two beds and takes off his shoes. "I'm going to order room service," he says, tugging his hoodie off and tossing it on the bed. "Do you want that too or are you going to go out?"

"Room service sounds good." EJ drops his bag on the other bed and then flops down on the mattress, shoes still on, feet hanging off the end. "Shit. Why does sitting all day feel this bad? On days when we work out hard all I want to do is sit down, and now we sit all day and I kind of want to go for a jog or something."

"Bloodflow." Gabe pulls his t-shirt off too. Everything feels sweaty and grimy from the buses and plane. "A shower would be better than a jog, maybe." 

"You look like you're going to get there first." 

Gabe shrugs and pushes his sweats down. “You had your chance to—” He cuts off because EJ makes a sound, a choked-off gasp, and Gabe stops with his pants at mid-thigh to look over at him. “Are you okay?”

EJ is staring at him, wide-eyed and wild-eyed, gaze directed toward—oh. 

Apparently the panties have the power to knock EJ speechless, which not a lot of things can do. Since EJ is the one who teased him into wearing them in the first place, turnabout should be fair play. Gabe lets his sweats slide the rest of the way down and steps out of them, moving away from the bed in case it was obstructing EJ’s view.

“You didn’t really mean for me to wear them,” he says, rubbing his hands on his thighs and trying to remember what kind of pose models would strike to show off fancy underwear. Sort of sticking one hip out and leaning? He tries that. “But what do you think?”

EJ doesn’t say anything for another long moment, but his eyes are still big and his nostrils flare with each breath. It would be funny if Gabe’s own breath wasn’t stuttering in his chest and if his stomach wasn’t so hot and tight while he waits for EJ to answer.

“They look good on you,” EJ says finally, his voice not quite wavering. “You’ve, um. Got the build for those. Apparently.”

“You think so?” Gabe turns deliberately, giving EJ a view of his ass, and looks back over his shoulder at him. “This works? I don’t think they designed them for, you know. Hockey build.”

A muscle tics by EJ’s eye. “Maybe it wasn’t their plan, but it turned out okay, for sure.”

Gabe turns around again, letting EJ look at the fancy lace in the front and the soft purple fabric stretched over his dick. He’s still mostly tucked back, though things have slipped and shifted over the course of the day, and the lace has caught his pubic hair in a few places and is tugging it painfully. He smooths one hand over himself, both to fix that and because he hopes it’ll look sexy. From the way blood rushes to EJ’s face and turns him all red all over again, it does.

“You’re playing games with me, aren’t you, Landy?” EJ says finally, and Gabe shrugs; maybe he is, maybe not, he can’t even tell what he’s doing anymore. He was kind of hoping EJ would be able to tell _him_. He’s supposed to be the wise elder who knows things here.

“If it’s a game, how do I win?” EJ’s eyes are narrowed now, and he’s looking Gabe up and down. Gabe goes still, one hand still pressed against the front of the panties and the other resting on his thigh. He can’t imagine how it makes him look—it's definitely not a purposefully sexy pose like the other one—but EJ’s expression shifts into something darker, watching him. 

Gabe licks his lips, trying to think of an answer as the silence stretches out. “Well. I guess you would have to catch me.”

EJ’s mouth twitches. “We’re locked in a room together.”

“I’m standing right here and you’re not trying to come get me.” 

EJ unfolds from the bed slowly, pushing his sleeves up in two motions that hold Gabe’s gaze. “You know I hate to lose.”

“But you’re still not moving.” Gabe shrugs, stepping back until his shoulders bump against the wall. “Look, I won’t even run. You don’t have to chase me. You just have to come here.”

EJ walks over to him slowly, watching him like at any moment Gabe might start laughing and call it all off as a joke. Gabe couldn’t laugh if he tried. His chest and stomach are tight, his breath quick and shallow, and all he can think about is how much he wants EJ to touch him. 

He hadn’t known he wanted that until now, when he saw how EJ looked at him dressed like this. The surprise makes it better, his whole body singing with nerves and adrenaline as EJ gets closer and closer and finally stops, close enough that Gabe can see his eyelashes flick up and down as he studies Gabe’s body.

EJ’s hand settles in the center of Gabe’s chest, holding him to the wall. “Okay,” EJ says quietly. “Caught you. Now what?”

Gabe licks his lips. “You won. So… whatever you want.”

“That’s not fair, Landy.” EJ leans in closer, his breath warm against Gabe’s jaw. “I need some guidelines here.”

Having him so close makes it hard for Gabe to think, much less come up with instructions. “You told me to wear them,” he reminds EJ again. “What were you thinking about when you said that?”

“I definitely didn’t think you would look like this.” EJ runs his hand down Gabe’s torso slowly, from his chest to his abdomen, and Gabe shivers, muscles clenching under EJ’s touch. EJ rolls his eyes. “Show-off.”

“I’m not!”

“The abs, always with the abs...” He hooks one finger in the waistband of the panties and runs it back and forth, knuckle pressed to Gabe’s skin. “God, you’re sensitive. I’m barely touching you and you’re losing it.”

“Do you like it?” Gabe asks, and EJ’s teeth catch at his own lip, like he’s keeping himself from saying something when he nods. “Tell me.”

EJ makes a frustrated noise and draws his hand away, using it to gesture up and down Gabe’s body instead. “I like—all of this. The whole package.”

Gabe swallows, a thrill running from the hot center of his stomach through his whole body at those words. He can feel it in his fingertips and toes, a shiver of electricity. “You should kiss me, then.”

Even this deep in, even when he’s _asking_ for it, he still doesn’t really believe that EJ will do it. He expects EJ to take a breath, shake his head, maybe laugh a little, and then turn and walk away. Maybe he’ll tell Gabe to take a cold shower and leave the room altogether. Maybe he’ll get a drink from the minibar and keep his back to Gabe until he’s finished it. But of course EJ won’t really kiss him. That’s never going to happen.

He’s waiting for EJ pull away right up to when EJ’s hand cradles his jaw, thumb sweeping over his lower lip, and EJ mutters “Fucking… fuck, Landy,” close and warm, his breath ghosting over Gabe’s cheek. There’s just a second, just enough time for some neurons to flicker in his brain with the idea that maybe this is going to happen after all. 

Then EJ’s mouth is against his, crushing his lips to his teeth, pressing Gabe’s head back to the wall with raw want. EJ’s kissing him like he’s _hungry_. It takes Gabe another instant, another firing of neurons, to really get that and start kissing back. 

EJ’s free hand runs up and down Gabe’s chest again, scratching lightly all the way down to his navel and then catching all four of his fingers in the waistband of the panties. They reach down and curl, catching at the coarse curls there and tugging at the fabric so it slides over Gabe’s dick, a shivery-good feeling that makes him moan into EJ’s mouth.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” EJ says, pulling back just enough to rest their foreheads together. “I want to get these off you and get my mouth on you. But I also don’t want to stop looking at you in them. You look so fucking good.”

Gabe shudders, closing his eyes and fighting for control against the rush of heat going through him. “Do whatever you want.”

“Yeah? You sure about that?” EJ kisses him instead of waiting for an answer, and Gabe feels like he’s flying apart, like he’s sinking into the floor and floating off it at the same time. EJ’s hand is still there at his crotch, fingertips just barely touching the base of his dick, and he doesn’t know what he wants EJ to do either but he knows he wants more.

He breaks the kiss to take a ragged breath, ready to beg—not for anything in particular, just for EJ to do something, to touch him—but EJ is a step ahead of him. He lets go of Gabe’s jaw and drops that hand to Gabe’s wrist, guiding it back to hold his hand flat against the wall at his side. “Keep that there,” he says, then grabs his other wrist and does the same on the other side. “And there. Don’t move them.”

Gabe nods, dazed but obedient, and EJ presses another quick kiss to his mouth before getting down on his knees. Something happens in Gabe’s brain, seeing that—something fuzzy and overloaded, a fuse blowing and sending half of his functioning brain cells dark—and he moans out loud this time, hoarse and uncontrolled.

“Testing out how good these walls are?” EJ nuzzles at the curve of his dick through the soft fabric, the feeling of hot damp breath enough to make Gabe’s hips jerk and his dick twitch. That makes EJ laugh, which is _more_ breath and heat, forcing another frustrated sound from Gabe, even louder.

“Try to keep it to a dull roar.” EJ slips his hand down inside the panties, coaxing the head of Gabe’s cock back up to the front, which is relief and torture at once because it means now the hot damp of his breath reaches that sensitive skin, too. Gabe thumps his head against the wall, stomach clenching with the effort of not letting himself cry out about it.

He could beg—maybe that’s what EJ is waiting for? Or maybe he’s just distracted, pressing his nose against the seam of Gabe’s groin and thigh and breathing in deeply while his thumb rubs a slow circle over the head of Gabe’s cock through the panties, just enough that Gabe can feel himself leaking. It makes the fabric wet and slippery, which feels even better, and his hips are twitching helplessly now. He’s going to lose control of himself if EJ doesn’t help him out.

Begging it is, then. “EJ, please—please, god, I need—I need you, don’t tease, please, just touch me, let me—”

He expects EJ to laugh again, to say something mocking, but instead EJ groans, a raw sound that seems to come up out of the deepest part of his chest. He puts his mouth over the curve of Gabe’s cock, mouthing him roughly through the panties. The touch is mediated and still almost too much—heat and pressure, the slide of EJ’s tongue without the wetness it should carry, at first, until his spit and Gabe’s precome both start to soak a larger patch of the fabric and let it conduct more sensation that all runs straight to the pit of Gabe’s stomach and feed the hot, pulsing desperation there.

EJ’s hands slide down Gabe’s thighs, around to the back, and up again, slipping up inside the back of the panties to cup the bare skin of his ass. It lets him hold Gabe to his face, his mouth working relentlessly at him through the fabric, cutting Gabe’s hips’ frantic efforts to jerk and thrust down to helpless humping against EJ, increasing the pressure and friction, making it all _more_.

Gabe comes hard and EJ’s mouth doesn’t stop, like he’s trying to suck the mess right through the fabric. Gabe hits his head against the wall again, trying to pull away and push forward at once, mindless and lost for a minute until EJ finally lets him go.

EJ gets to his feet and backs away a few steps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He stares at Gabe for a minute, eyes wild at first and then settling into the unreadable, distant look Gabe is used to seeing there. Gabe lifts his hands from the wall slowly, waiting to see if that’s allowed now, and when EJ doesn’t react, he drags one through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead, and lets the other one fall down to his crotch.

Adjusting himself is a weak pretext—he’s all but exposed and there’s not much he can do about it now, with the panties soaked and twisted and much-abused. He brushes his fingers over himself carefully, hesitantly, then gathers his wits and lifts his chin to look directly at EJ.

“Good?” he asks, his voice weird and loud in the room.

EJ blinks at him like he’s out of his mind. “What?”

“Was it good?” EJ just keeps staring, so Gabe gestures at himself, encompassing the marks on his neck and chest and then the wrecked underwear clinging to his cock. “Everything?”

“Was it—Jesus, kid.” EJ takes a deep breath. “Yes. It was… it was very good. I think technically it was probably assault, but—"

“Don’t say that.” Gabe pushes off the wall and moves closer to him, trying to catch EJ’s gaze with his own. It’s not easy; EJ is avoidant on his best days, and when he’s having some kind of internal crisis like this he’s even worse. Eventually Gabe manages it by dint of reaching up and catching EJ’s head between his palms. “I’m _fine_. I thought it was good, too. I thought it was awesome, actually.”

EJ drags a slow breath in through his nose, eyes flaring wide, then breathes out through his mouth, exhaling in Gabe’s face. “You’re going to kill me one of these days, Landy.”

Gabe frowns and lets go of him, dropping his hands to his sides. “Not on purpose.”

“I’m supposed to be mentoring you, not—whatever that was.”

“It was mentoring.” Gabe tugs a little at the waistband, wincing as it tugs at his hair again. He needs to change, but taking them off now feels like it would be giving in to EJ’s sudden personal crisis.

EJ’s shaking his head. “It definitely was not what the front office had in mind, I can tell you that.”

“You’re not going to tell them, are you?”

EJ makes a noise and flings himself backward on Gabe’s bed. “Are you?”

“No.” Gabe smooths his hand over himself and makes a face. “I’m going to take a shower, though. Stop freaking out, I don’t like it.”

“Oh, well, if _you_ don’t like it.” EJ snorts, still lying there on his back staring at the ceiling. “Who is in charge here, anyway?”

“Nobody.” Gabe heads for the bathroom. It’s a relief to close the door behind him and turn the water on; whatever the details of EJ’s crisis, he doesn’t have to watch or listen to it. Hopefully it will sort itself out by the time he comes back out for bed. If not, he’ll just have to get used to everything being miserable.

He steps out of the panties and studies them for a minute. The magic and the fun of the whole thing is dissipated now; they’re just crumpled fabric in his hand. Cheap, too, he can see now. The lace is pulling away from the elastic in a few places after being stretched over his body all day, and the soft material he liked so much is just a poly blend, a few degrees of texture away from being one of his jerseys. 

He hesitates a minute, then drops them in the trash can by the sink. He puts some toilet paper on top of them, so they won’t be so visible when housekeeping comes through, though he doubts they’ll notice or care. 

He climbs into the shower and lets the hot water beat him in the face, then moves so it can rinse away the sweat and come from his body. He turns so it can pound his shoulders, too, though the water pressure isn’t enough to make it really good. He’ll have to go see the team massage therapist next chance he gets; he’s tight and it’s only going to get worse. He thinks about that while he showers, and nothing at all while he dries off and wraps the towel around his hips. 

When he steps back into the room, EJ’s back in his own bed, facing toward the window with the blanket pulled up to his chin and the bedside light turned off. Gabe can take a fucking hint. He pulls on some shorts and climbs into bed in silence.

**

When his alarm goes off in the morning, EJ’s already gone. Gabe’s stomach twists and flips—is he off talking to the coaches? Or the logistics team, to get Gabe moved to another room for the rest of the trip? Is he reporting him to the front office for being weird and inappropriate? EJ’s suitcase is still there, closed and zipped up and ready to go, so he didn’t entirely flee, but still, what if he—

Gabe doesn’t quite need to throw up, but it’s close. He puts his head between his knees for a few minutes, dragging in air, then makes himself get up and get dressed. He has to at least go through the motions of team breakfast or he’ll get benched, and whatever happens with EJ, he can’t let that happen.

Luckily the rest of the team isn’t very observant—he gets away with drinking a coffee and an orange juice and eating a single piece of toast without anyone commenting. EJ doesn’t appear until the very end of breakfast, slipping into the room and flashing a quick smile at the staffer taking attendance. His eyes slide over Gabe without seeming to recognize him on this way to the coffee pot.

Gabe drops his orange juice glass into the bin for the hotel to collect and heads for the elevators. He has the car to himself, which at least lets him drag in shaky breaths in private until he gets to the room. Only about half an hour to pull himself together, and the he’ll have to go down for bus call, but it’s better than nothing.

He stops when he sees the bag at the foot of his bed. He recognizes the logo—one of the American chains that has anything and everything, and is open what seems like all the time. His hands shake as he picks it up and open it.

Inside there’s a pair of red panties, sleek and smooth, without the lace embellishments of the other pair, but with fancy little cutouts in the back. He can imagine how they’ll frame his ass, and his face heats immediately. 

The receipt is in the bag, the numbers scribbled out and a note written across the bottom. _Sorry I was a jerk. Apology gift. If you want. I got matching ones in blue; already got ‘em on._

_See you on the bus. XO EJ_

Gabe runs the panties between his fingers and starts to smile. He’s got half an hour, that’s plenty of time to change.


End file.
